


Voicemail for Saul

by ScarletteStar1



Category: Homeland
Genre: Angst, F/M, Grief, Loss, Love, Saul x Carrie, Saurrie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 23:15:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20366713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletteStar1/pseuds/ScarletteStar1
Summary: Alone in her hotel room, on the other side of the world, Carrie leaves a desperate message for her mentor.Takes place at the very end of season three.





	Voicemail for Saul

Saul. It's me.

I've dialed your number a hundred times. Fuck, that's a fucking lie. I haven't tried to call you, but I've thought about it. Just haven't been able to bring myself to do it. Um, so, I was there. I watched them do it. I climbed up the fence as they hoisted him up on that crane. I watched the life shiver and shake out of his body. You said you were sorry, but you should know I'll be watching that for the rest of my life. Every time I close my eyes, it is what I will see. The redness. The twitching. And then stillness worse than anything I've ever imagined. You wanna be sorry for something? Be sorry for that. 

Remember in the beginning, you and me, we used to go out for lunch and you'd tell me stuff you thought I needed to know? Most of it I knew already, but I liked listening to you and I liked looking at your hands. Back then, your hands were always in motion. Waving in the air, fondling your utensils, and then folding like a blessing of some sort over your belly as you leaned back in your seat to assess my progress. God, I loved to watch your hands, Saul. I miss that. I came back to my hotel room and I'm sitting here on the floor and I'm so alone. And he's dead and I'm thinking about your hands. 

But thing is I'm not really alone and I guess I'll never be fucking alone anymore.

I'm probably not making much sense. I've had a couple drinks. I shouldn't be drinking, but I needed something to take the edge off. My flesh is crawling. I feel like I'm gonna hatch out of myself and run off screaming. Shit, you don't even know that part. You don't even know why I shouldn't be fucking drinking. I hid it from you. I didn't want you to know. I guess I still don't.

You should know I'm in hell. And I know you were a part of that and part of me never ever wants to see you again. But another part of me, most of me, wishes you'd walk through my door right now because I know you are in hell too and you're maybe the only other person on the planet who could hold me and make it okay. Even for a moment.

I know I won't be allowed to grieve this thing, even as strange a grief as it is. It's fucked up, you know that? It is totally and completely fucked that no one will ever know. There won't be flowers or prayers or a reception with finger sandwiches and little cakes. A steady flow of cards won't come to my address. No one will ever even ask me how I'm doing.

Tell me what to do now, Saul. Tell me how to do it. Take me out to lunch and shower me with information and stories and advice, cuz I'm lost. So fucking lost.

_Beeeeeeep._

_You have reached the maximum length allowed for your message. If you are satisfied, press one to send. If you would like to erase and rerecord press two. For more options, press the star key._

Carrie pressed two.

_Your message has been erased. At the tone, please record your message. When you are finished with your message you can press the star key for more options. To end this call, simply hang up now._

Carrie ended the call.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired in part by the Amanda Palmer song, Voicemail for Jill... yes, it is a completely different subject, and yet, it sang to me as I was writing. Thank you, as ever for taking time to read. You have my heart.


End file.
